And when he gets a little older, he’ll waddle over, climb up on my knee and watch baseball with me.

“Daddy, who’s playing?”

“The Toronto Blue Jays. We like them.”

“Who is the other team?”

“New York Yankees. They are poopy.”

“Mommy thinks baseball is boring.”

“You’re mother is a bit of a harlot. I wanted to wait until you were older to tell you…”

“I like the Yankees. They have strips on their costumes.”

“I will straight up give you to the gypsies.”

“Peter!!” you’ll yell, after entering the room without me noticing.

“Kidding. I’m kidding!” I’ll shake my head side to side and mouth “I’m not” at the kid. Then I’ll mime “I’m watching you” to him.

And when he’s fifteen he’ll want some cash to go to a movie with that cute little brunette girl from his English class who writes poems but won’t show them to anyone but him. You’ll balk because the girl’s mother “always skimped on snacks for the kids’ soccer games” five years earlier. And because, “She’s a judgmental jerk who dresses like she thinks she’s still twenty-two!” And he’ll be sad. And I’ll take him aside. I’ll explain that what seems like love at his age, often isn’t. And that he’ll meet thousands of women in his life, each with attributes that will make her special. And that you and I are doing our very best to help him grow up healthy and happy.

Then I’ll slip him a couple of twenties and say, “Don’t tell your mother.”

It’s gonna happen. Make your peace with it now.

Then he’ll graduate from high school.

And I’ll be annoyed at sitting there for so long. And I’ll wonder, a little too loud, who wrote those terrible speeches. And then the little twerp, who you’ll claim ruined your body (he so hasn’t) and who I’ll resent because his soon to be half-assed university career is going to cost me the stash of money I had put aside for my personal robot that sings Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock’s “Joy and Pain” and makes the world’s best pancakes, will take the stage.

And he’ll get his diploma…

And we”ll know we did good.

You’ll cry.

I’ll hug you.

And I’ll hope, with every ounce of my being, that when he finds someone to spend his life with, he’ll be half as lucky as I’ve been.

Peter this was your best post yet.. what a way to start the morning.. it was absolutely lovely with all the little details that made me smile.. “I gave birth to your son…”, “…your mother is a harlot…..”, “then I’ll slip him some twenties….” and the rest of the post.. how do you come with these adorable things?

When, and if, you pull the trigger on the robot, pay the extra $250 and spring for the model that dispenses the pancake batter from both the front and the back. After all, it’s really about the enetertainment Right? Right! Nice work Peter!

It is possible, just a little, that I hate you a little every time I read one of these posts because it makes me hope just a little that out there somewhere is a guy who is going to see me as his “future wife” and who will be as awesome as you are in these posts. And I know it isn’t possible because there is only one you and you live too damn far away!
*Emma shakes an only slightly serious fist in Peter’s general direction… at least she thinks it’s his general direction as she’s not that good with directions and to be honest, Canada could be anywhere from here… here being my computer desk in good old Adelaide*

Also – if any of that made any sort of sense to you … I’ll be impressed.